


What Happens in Motel Rooms

by TicTacToeTags



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TicTacToeTags/pseuds/TicTacToeTags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something to be said about lending a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Motel Rooms

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer and whatnot. 
> 
> Um, also I've never written anything like this before.   
> Also, also I've never, ever submitted fanfic or anything before. 
> 
> So, um, enjoy?

High pitched squeals of lust piped out of the laptop's speakers, giggles and squeaks in Japanese in an obvious rhythm. On screen, big naked breasts bounced on women dressed as high school girls. It wasn't anything new or revolutionary, but it did the trick. Dean gripped his stiff cock from the base, starting slow. He tried not to think about his bare ass on the motel room chair and how unsanitary it was. He tried not to think about where his brother was right now and how long he'd be out. He tried not to think about ghosts and demons and gods and angels. He tried not to think about anything. 

Dean screwed his eyes shut and tried not to think about anything but the girls on the screen and the sensation of friction on his dick. 

"Dean, I--" 

He nearly ripped off his dick in surprise. 

Sitting next to him was the angel with heaven's worst timing. Castiel nearly looked embarrassed, which on him was an expression of discomfort as much as contrition. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were busy with yourself." 

Dean's fist clenched tight over his cock. His eyes flashed. Was ten minutes of privacy too much to ask for? You could save the world a hundred times over but that still didn't buy you the common courtesy of some alone time. 

"Dammit, Cas, learn to read a Do Not Disturb sign, will ya," he growled over the sounds of porn still playing. He continued to hold his dick, almost protectively, defiantly. Heaven and Hell could wait while he rubbed one out. 

Castiel's stare broke from Dean's face, trailing to his lap. His mouth moved to speak but couldn't find the words. He was never good at asking for permission. His hand was already overlapping Dean's on his crotch before Dean could say anything to stop him. 

There wasn't anything Dean could think to say to stop him. He let his own hand fall away, replaced by the angel's grip. It was gentle at first, just a loose circling around his dick. A few cautious strokes up the shaft; more of a test than a tease. There was a tenderness to it, almost reverence. The heat from Castiel's hand met the heat from his dick, sparking new warmth between them. Whatever the feeling of another guy-- no, an angel, jerking him off was, it wasn't entirely unenjoyable. 

Dean closed his eyes, his body relaxing as he focused on the pleasant pressure building in his cock. He was only vaguely aware the video had stopped playing. He was less aware the sounds of prerecorded sex had been replaced by his own skin being slapped and the occasional low noise from the back of his own throat. He chose not to be aware of the angel watching his face, studying every pleasurable twitch and muscle tick. 

Cock slick with precum, Cas pumped him with increasing speed and confidence. Dean found himself thrusting into Castiel's fist, each heave bringing him closer to orgasm until his hips bucked and he let go with a deep groan. His body shuddered like a death rattle. Cas milked him for every drop, hand wet up to his wrist. 

When was the last time he came that hard from a handjob? Never?

Dean's eyes flicked open just long enough to register Dean's eyes flicked open to register the mere inches that separated his face from Cas. He swallowed, suddenly self-conscious. It was too late to say anything about personal space. 

It was too late to say anything. The angel was gone.


End file.
